


Unpaid Entertainment

by DLoss



Series: Misplaced Adrenaline [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood Play, Death Threats, GTA AU, Geoff and Burnie are just mentioned, Head shots, Hostage Situations, Humiliation, I'm so sorry, I've been a resident of hell for some time now, Knives, M/M, Minor Character Death, Police Officer Jeremy, Rape, Significant amounts of blood, These tags are serious guys, Torture, Vagabond Ryan, bank robberies, but I'm not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18107063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLoss/pseuds/DLoss
Summary: Jeremy has an appointment at the bank on his first day off in ages, so of course the thing gets robbed. Of course there's a hostage situation.And of course The Vagabond is involved.This fic is a spiritual successor toWrespawnsamazing ficBrass Balls*Edit* So, this has become a thing with a life of it's own.If you need me, Satan and I have a lunch thing in hell.Leave a message.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Brass Balls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498330) by [Wrespawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn). 



> WARNING: Darkness ahead. Violence, blood and rape. Not play. Actual. Read on at own risk. If you flag something I haven't tagged, please comment. 
> 
> This is in NO WAY connected with my Impenitent fic OR universe.

Jeremy woke with a sudden and violent start, gasping for air as he hit consciousness as if he’d been suffocating before he’d opened his eyes. Breaths came in gulps of air for a few seconds, slowing as he registered his room. Still in his bed. Alone. Safe.

For now.

Another nightmare. They weren’t super common. And lots of cops had nightmares. Though, Jeremy wasn’t sure if you could really call it a nightmare when you woke up with a fucking hard on.

And not just morning wood, either. Oh, no, Jeremy knew exactly what had caused this. And he had a fucking name.

Vagabond.

Okay, so it was a code name, or whatever. Still. It had been two weeks since the alley, since Jeremy had been dumb enough to go after Vagabond without a SWAT team behind him, since Vagabond had put him on the hood of his own squad car, raped him, and made him cum with a gun to his head.

Not Jeremy’s proudest moment.

But he was still alive. Sure, Geoff had torn strips off him. Sure, Captain Burns had then done the same. Sure, he’d been put on desk duty for three weeks and sent to mandatory post-traumatic counselling. He had told the counselor most of what happened.

The fact remembering it still made him hard? That part he kept to himself.

The fact he rolled out of bed, covered in cold sweat from whatever nightmare his brain had fed him while asleep, and he was still hard and horny as fuck. He hadn’t told a fucking soul.

The shower was welcome, like a reminder the real world was outside his own head. And he took a moment to revel in the heat. He heard his alarm go off in the bedroom behind him. Right. The appointment.

He wrapped a hand around his own cock before he’d really thought it through. The usual stream of shame filled negatives hitting him before he’d even registered what he was doing.

_Stop thinking about it. He could have killed you. He will kill you if you see him again. He’s not going to get you off in a dark alley. He will just fucking shoot you._

He ignored it, knowing full well it was all true, but his libido had other ideas. Ideas that involved Vagabond fucking him just as rough until he came, and then fucking him more. Holding him down and- He came against the wall of the shower with a few muttered expletives and a growl of disapproval.

Jeremy had always liked bigger guys. Had always liked playing rough. But this was… something else entirely and he had no fucking clue as to how to deal with it. How to get the urge to go away.

Or how to fill it.

He shook it off and got dressed quickly, shutting his phone up on the way, pulled on a t-shirt and pair of jeans. He was already late.

He picked up his badge and hooked it onto his jeans, shirt falling over it easily, shoved the phone and wallet into his pocket, grabbing his keys as he ran out the door to get to the bank on time for his stupid bloody meeting.

 

Of course.

Of. Fucking. Course.

 _Of course_ his first day off in a week meant he had to get up at nine to go to an appointment at the bank. _Of course_ it had been busy as fuck, full to the brim with people lining up for dumb bullshit.

And _of fucking course_ it had to be the morning when someone had decided, on this lovely day, to _rob the fucking bank._

Jeremy was getting real tired of this damn city.

Jeremy couldn’t see all of the masked men, but there was a decent group of them. Which meant this wasn’t an in and out situation. This was a stay-and-drill-into-the-safe situation. Which meant it was going to take all day. Hostage negotiations, SWAT, LSPD response.

Ugh. Jeremy wanted a nap.

The woman behind the desk from him, who he literally just sat down with to discuss his finances, looked like she was about to throw up. Jeremy encouraged her to follow him as they stood, allowing themselves to be rounded up with the rest of the people in the bank, and moved away from the desks. People were being dragged, shoved and threatened from other rooms, pushed into a big group of people in the center of the open space in the lobby of the bank.

The woman started crying.

“Hey.” Jeremy said gently. “You’re ok for now, stay quiet.” He told her. “They’re just here for the money.” He added, somehow not coming off as comforting as he’d hoped.

Listen, he’d had a shit morning so far.

“My… It’s my first day back from maternity leave.” The woman managed under her breath, shaking visibly. Well. That sucked.

"Sorry." Jeremy winced. "But try to stay calm."

“Phones in the bag, people.” One of the men was shouting, holding a garbage bag and moving through the crowd. He had an assault rifle in his other hand.

Jeremy pulled his phone out of his pocket to get ready for when the dude came passed. He didn’t bother trying to call it in. About seven silent alarms were already going off, no doubt. He didn’t need to be shot in the head today.

“You’re a cop, right?” The woman asked through her tears. “You can-”

“Shhh.” Jeremy breathed. “Just let these guys do their thing and we’ll be fine.” Jeremy told her. “Like I said, they’re just here for mon-” Something grabbed his bicep and hauled him to his feet, spinning him around and a pulling him a few paces away from the edge of the crowd now behind him.

“Morning officer.” Vagabond said. There was a sound like a quelled scream behind him at the sight of the black mask and leather jacket. Jeremy froze for a split second, panic racing through him, adrenaline surging and his heart beating hard in his chest. He felt himself breathe, his lungs sucking in air before his flight or fight kicked in. Then he flinched.

He moved backwards, dropping his phone, and went to fall into a better stance, get his weight spread a little so he could defend himself.

Vagabond punched him in the jaw before he’d finished raising his arms.

Jeremy sprawled to the floor, landing hard on his shoulder, and there was a yell of surprise as people nearby scattered a little, pushed back out of the way. Jeremy scrambled to get his brain into gear, daze ringing through his ears, and tried to roll up to his feet. He needed to move. He couldn’t be on the floor for long.

Vagabond was faster though – having not already been hit in the head was probably an advantage – and something grabbed his ankle and yanked. He was pulled onto his back, away from the people who were not helping anyway, and then there was a weight on his chest. Jeremy kicked at the floor with a shoe, trying to twist away, only to have the leg pinned outward, a knee against his inner thigh, and he growled in pain.

He took the time to look up at the Vagabond, the still mask and the icy eyes beyond, and he went to swear at the fucking asshole as he tried to struggle free.

He didn’t get through the first expletive before there was three gloved fingers in his mouth, shoving his head back and slamming it into the floor, stopping his tirade before it began.

The leather in his mouth pressed hard against his tongue, making Jeremy almost gag around it, biting down almost instinctively. Breathing hard through his nose with the effort. But the gloves were thick and his teeth, unfortunately, were not sharp enough to get through. His hands was not strong enough to push him away, either.

Everything stilled.

Jeremy was stuck against the floor, pain through his leg and head where he was being unconventionally pinned, growling around the hand. Because of course he was. This was exactly what he’d needed today. To die on the floor of a bank, with no money in his savings account.

Fucking cop salary.

He could feel himself shaking, knew that he wasn’t thinking straight as he met Vagabonds gaze, his vision finally settling. Fuck.

He was so fucked.

“What the hell, man?” Someone was asking out of Jeremy’s limited visual range. Not that he was looking away from the mask hovering over him. Christ it felt like the Vagabond was leaning all his weight through his jaw. Jeremy wasn’t going to be able to chew for a week.

If he lived.

“Montague.” Vagabond glanced away from Jeremy, up to whoever he was speaking to, and then back. Jeremy safely assumed this was one of the bank robber’s code names. “Meet Officer Dooley,” oh, fuck, Vagabond had remembered his name, “Dooley, Montague. Say hi.”

Jeremy glared at him, unable to move even if he wasn’t pinned. Frozen in place. Vagabond didn’t even had a weapon in his hand.

“Officer?” The other voice moved closer. “As in cop?”

Not good. That was not said with a warm inflection. It was said with the kind of inflection that shot people in the head.

“As in.” Vagabond confirmed, leaning down with his other hand to lift Jeremy’s shirt out of the way. He pulled the badge off his waistband and tossed it to someone out of sight. Jeremy heard someone nearby gasp. Jeremy agreed with this assessment.

“Well shit.” Montague laughed. “Don’t kill him.”

 _That_ made Vagabond look away. Slowly lifting his head, Jeremy assumed, to fix his icy gaze on Montague. It definitely sounded like Montague had just given him an order. Vagabond really didn’t seem like the kind of guy who worked _super_ well under orders. Still. Glimmer of hope, maybe?

Montague backed off almost instantly, hissing a quick apology.

“Sorry, didn’t mean-” a sound like a frustrated sigh, “LSPD fall over themselves for one of their own. He’s a hostage. We agreed.”

Jeremy really hoped Vagabond was mad enough at Montague to kill _him_ instead. Montague did have a point though. Cops as hostages were an effective tool in Los Santos.

“Oh, I’m not gonna kill him.” Vagabond replied, almost softly, looking back down at Jeremy.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuc-

“Great.” Montague replied cautiously. Perhaps picking up on the subtext of _that_ comment. “Maybe keep him away from the civvies, though. Don’t want anyone getting any ideas.”

“Sure.” Vagabond said without looking up from Jeremy’s face. If Jeremy’s heart had been pounding hard before, it was now exploding out of his chest. He wouldn’t be surprised if Vagabond could feel it beating under the fingers in his throat. “I’ll find somewhere more private.”

 _Shit, shit, shit_.

Jeremy didn’t hear the response from the other robber, Vagabond pulled his hand out of his mouth to grip him by the shirt and haul him up to his feet. Jeremy had no choice but to follow the man as he dragged him around the crowd, watching on in terror and pity, and towards the offices of the bank.

The staff door had been kicked in, so he didn’t even need to stop to get through it. Jeremy struggled as soon as he found his feet, trying to break the grip on his shirt and arm, trying to pull away.

He got the sense that Vagabond barely noticed he was doing it.

Vagabond pushed a glass door open with a foot and hauled Jeremy inside the small conference room and shoved him into the wall. Jeremy lost his balance, stumbling into the wall before hitting the floor on his knees, trying to remember how to breathe at the same time. He was on his feet seconds later, looking around wildly.

Vagabond was fucking with the computer on the long table, shoved chairs out of the way to clear the edge of the table near them. The far side of the small conference room was all glass, a window into the hall Jeremy had just been dragged along. The table was a big oval thing. The kind of thing Jeremy assumed they had meetings over.

By the time he’d gotten his bearings, remembered which way was up and made sure his jaw still worked, Vagabond turned to face him, moving into his space to tower ominously. Jeremy had genuinely hoped his imagination had made up the significant height difference between them. But it had been fairly accurate. Jeremy had to look up to keep his gaze.

He didn’t bother running. If the Vagabond didn’t catch him Jeremy figured he’d use the other hostages to entertain himself. Or to get Jeremy to surrender. Didn’t mean he was going to take this lying down. _Even though he wanted to_. Jeremy internally shushed the thought, ignoring the hard on in his jeans. Because,  _Christ,_ Jeremy. Get a hold of yourself.

“Morning.” Jeremy said, going for jovial, landing on dark.

“Morning.” Vagabond replied, sounding fucking overjoyed at the current turn of events. “Getting some banking done?”

“Just came to cry over my savings account.”

“Lucky you.” Vagabond chuckled. “You’re the entertainment I needed today.”

Jeremy glared at him for a full thirty seconds. Definitely _not_ thinking about being used as ‘entertainment’.

“Happy to help.” He replied dryly.

“Strip.” Vagabond ordered, growling it at him from behind the mask. Jeremy blinked at him in surprise and then frowned at the guy.

“Go fuck yourself.” He suggested. Because he was an idiot, apparently. Vagabond laughed and moved faster that Jeremy could react, a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him around and shoving him against the table. The wood cut into the top of his ass. Then the man shoved a knee between his legs, bringing their bodies close enough to share heat, and there was a knife in his hand.

Jeremy started, raising an arm quickly to try and stop the wrist wielding the knife, but was too slow and weak to stop it. The tip of the blade sunk into his trapeze muscle, just over the flat neck of the tee, and Jeremy made choked noise of pain and half uttered expletives.

The pain burned through him, seared into his neck and down his arm, making it stutter at his hip. He’d closed his eyes, grimacing, trying to move backwards and away, but the table and the grip on his neck trapped him against the masked man.

When he figured out how to breathe again, he realised it wasn’t as deep as it felt. He looked up at the mask, eyes watering a little, grinding his teeth.

“Want to see how deep it goes before you lose the muscle?” Vagabond asked. He jerked his hand, sinking the tip of the knife deeper. Jeremy snarled in pain.

“Fuck you; you piece of-”

“ _Pants.”_

Jeremy complied grudgingly, trying to glare up at the murdering psycho, not entirely sure if he pulled it off. He undid the button, the hand on his now injured side feeling weak. Pain jolting through him with every big movement.

“ _Christ_.” Jeremy breathed, getting the zipper down as the leg in the way moved. He shoved at his jeans and underwear, getting them under his hips and letting them fall.

“All the way.” Vagabond ordered, nodding downward at his shoes. Jeremy grimaced, holding the arm around his neck for balance, stepping out of his runners and kicking the jeans off his ankles. He felt a flush of shame go through his neck and face, knowing he his hard on was now on full display. His back was to the window and he really hoped none of the other bank robbers decided now was the time to check on them.

Vagabond chuckled, the knee moving back between his legs, closer this time, his thigh hitting Jeremy’s groin, pressing him into the table firmly. Jeremy glared at the blue shoulder of the jacket, grinding his teeth. In pain, he told himself. Nothing to do with the raging hard on he's got for the city’s most prolific cop-killer.

The knife was tugged out of his neck with a stinging pulse of pain, Jeremy snarled a few _fucks_ out for good measure, and then it was spun into the mans belt and away.

“Shirt.” Was the next order.

“Want to see me naked?” Jeremy teased, grimacing through the pain.

“No.” Vagabond snarled in reply, squeezing hard on his neck, fingers digging in. “Want to see you do what you’re told. Shirt.” The hand releasing the back of his neck so that Jeremy could tug the shirt up and over his head. He had to stop and breathe when he realised doing so hurt wound.

He had to get through it. This was going to get way worse before it got better.

If it got better at all.

Then he was naked, The Vagabond still entirely dressed in his dark jeans, leather jacket and mask. He felt exposed, slightly cold, and fucking embarrassed about the fact he still had a boner.

“Been thinking about me?” Vagabond asked, hand gripping his shoulder just over the injury. Jeremy could feel a trail of blood dripping down his shoulder blade.

“No.” Jeremy lied, trying to heat the word with a glare. He doubted Vagabond bought it.

“Liar.” The man snarled, reaching down to grip his hard on before Jeremy could stop him. His hands shoved, hitting the immovable chest in front of him, gripping around his bicep. He tried to stop the movement of the arm, but couldn’t, as Vagabond gripped hard around his cock.

“Fucking…” Jeremy breathed. “ _Shit_.”

“That’s what I thought.” He laughed.

“SWAT is going to-” Jeremy started to snarl, opening his eyes to glare at the man through his lust hazed vision, only to have the hand from his shoulder shoved against his mouth.

Jeremy tasted blood over the leather.

His blood.

He would have gagged on the taste, but the hand gripped his whole jaw and dug fingers hard into his face. Jeremy’s body processes forgot what the fuck they were doing for a full three seconds.

Then he remembered he needed to breathe, taking shaking breaths through his nose, slowly trying to pull away from the hand.

“SWAT aren’t doing shit, Dooley.” Vagabond growled. “No-one coming to save you anytime soon, and I’ve got some time to kill.” Jeremys head was at the wrong angle to look up at him, instead the leather glove gripping his cock was pulled into focus. It moved slightly, pumping slowly along his length for a few seconds. Jeremy flexed in the Vagabonds hold, pleasure thrumming through him, his adrenaline only fueling his desperate need to come.

Christ he was going insane.

“You’re a kinky little shit, Dooley.” Vagabond added. “I fucking love it. The one cop on the force who’s into this and I find you in an alley. Lucky me.”

Jeremy could feel himself shaking, the hand let go of his dick and he groaned behind the hand in disappointment. Need. Vagabond leaned in closer to him. “I didn’t kill you last time, but don’t think that I’d hesitate for a fucking second if you do something I don’t like. So be a good little pig and make yourself _useful._ ” Vagabond breathed, shoving down on his jaw, moving his leg away and pushing down until Jeremy was forced down on one knee. Then to both. Vagabond jammed his neck against the table, moving forward to stand over him.

Jeremy didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what was going to happen next, the threat of getting himself and others killed hanging over him, a heavy, dull sense of pressure and discomfort in his chest.

Arousal tingling through him to his bones.

Christ he was fucked up. He had no idea when a desire for rough play had gone this far, when it had turned into whatever sick twisted thing burned in his abdomen and screamed _fucking yes_ in the back of his mind.

The hand was lifted from his mouth, letting his head relax back into a normal position and Jeremy took a few deep breaths, hands hesitated on what to do, and looking up at the man opening his pants in front of him.

Vagabond paused and Jeremy could _feel_ the grin behind the mask. He was flushed bright red already, he knew, but felt the blush deepen in the silence.

“Nothing to say?” Vagabond asked lightly as he pulled his cock free of his pants, already hard, stroking himself as he looked down on Jeremy. The blood from his glove – from Jeremy’s shoulder – left a streak of red along his hard shaft.

“I hope they shoot you, you sick son of a-” Vagabond didn’t let him finish, grabbing his jaw with one hand and guiding his dick forward with the other. It was shoved into Jeremy’s mouth with little ceremony and Jeremy gagged in surprise as it pressed forward until it hit the back of his throat. The taste of sweat and salt and blood filled his senses, the stink of leather and gun residue invaded his nose and Jeremy tried to remember how to breathe.

Jeremy suppressed his gag reflex desperately, hands pressing against the powerful thighs now holding him in place, and tried to swallow around the intrusion. Tried to produce enough saliva to make this a little easier. To quell the metallic taste of his own blood.

One of Vagabonds hands gripped him by the head, holding him still and the sensation of pressure sent a wave through him. He made a noise, something like a moan, in the back of his throat.

Jeremy knew his hands were gripping the jeans in front of him hard, holding on like he needed the support. He sucked slightly, moving forward along the cock as it pressed further into his mouth.

“Fuck.” Vagabond hissed, leaning over him, forward to rest a hand on the table. “Teaching you how to suck cocks at the academy now?” He jibed, relaxing his hand back, pulling his hips away from Jeremy’s face, until the tip of his cock was between Jeremy’s lips.

Jeremy was fucking hard. Fighting the urge to touch himself because that was the last thing Vagabond needed to use against him. His brain was half turned off, at this point, full of fear and anger and fucking _need_. So he used his tongue around the tip of the cock in his mouth, sucking it back down as Vagabond pressed his hips forward again. He was rewarded with a sound above him, like a heavy sigh through gritted teeth.

Vagabond held his head firm, moving up a little to use both hands on his head, and holding Jeremy as still as possible.

Then he fucked into his face, Jeremy scrambling to keep up, to keep his mouth loose and his throat from closing over, breathing in time with the short, sharp thrusts into mouth. Then he slowed to a stop, almost as quickly as he’d started, pressing deep into his mouth slowly. Almost gently.

“Fuck, Dooley.” He growled from overhead. “Look how hard you are.” He laughed slightly, pushing his dick deeper into his throat, jerking passed his gag reflex as it tried to expel the intrusion. “Jack yourself off.” Jeremy gripped harder on the denim walling him in, resolutely _not jacking off to the Vagabond raping him in real time_.

Fuck he wanted to though. Vagabond laughed and pulled away, his mouth free suddenly, the weight gone from his hands. Then he was hauled to his feet, hard grip on his bicep, and Jeremy shoved at the man out of instinct.

A grip landed on the wound on his shoulder, grabbing hard, and Jeremy growled in pain, flinching away from it and then he was dragged around, one arm around his neck, holding him hard into Vagabonds chest, and the other hand pressing three fingers into his mouth, again.

Jeremy felt fucking tiny held like this, one arm almost holding him straight by his neck, head only resting against the top of Vagabonds chest, feet kicked apart to make his weight drop into the choke. His nails scraped at the leather sleeve around his neck, struggling and flexing against the hold as if he had any hope of freeing himself. He could feel the pressure in his head from force against his throat, against the arteries supplying his brain.

“You’d rather I forced you.” Vagabond breathed into his ear, pressing the mask against his face, the edges jutting into his skull. Jeremy tried to breathe, the fingers in his mouth started moving, shallowly mimicking the rhythm Vagabond had been fucking his face with, replacing the cock for three leather clad fingers. “To embarrassed to jack off to me with an audience? Bet you’ve been doing it all fucking week.”

He had, but Jeremy did _not_ want to admit that. To anyone.

Ever.

“Bad luck, pig.” Vagabond hissed. “Not gonna do it for you. You want to come?” His tone said he expected an answer, but Jeremy had a mouth full of moving fingers, so he lifted one of his hands and flipped him off. Vagabond laughed and ground against him, his cock, still wet with Jeremy’s saliva, rocking against the small of his back.

“Doesn’t matter.” Vagabond added. “You’re going to come for me anyway. Your cock is fucking _begging_ for it. I’m going to come regardless. Could’ve knocked you out and fucked you in front of the other hostages for _that._ ”

Jeremy had a wild vision of Vagabond fucking into him while he was sleeping, a surge of heat rushing through his groin, his air stopping at his chest, pressure starting to build in his head, in his lower abdomen.

_No, no, no…_

Vagabond pressed harder against his head with the mask, bending his neck and increasing the pressure against his throat, slowing the blood getting to his brain even more.

“But you’re going to come for me.” He snarled. “All over the table. Then I’m going to fuck you, spent and sore, _until I’m done with you._ ” Jeremy whined in the back of his throat, trying to shake his head, _not happening_. “Good thing you’re covered in blood,” Vagabond went on, Jeremy could feel the blood as he mentioned it, running in a wide strip over his shoulder and down his chest and back, “I needed some lube-”

Jeremy came, growling as he did so past the hand in his mouth, biting down on the fingers. His mind stuttering over the details of being fucked bloody by the man holding him down. He ejaculated all over the table, just as Vagabond had told him, splattering across the shined surface and, probably, ruining the next meeting.

“There you are, you little freak.” Vagabond sounded fucking gleeful. Jeremy didn’t get to breathe through his orgasm, didn’t get to slow his spinning mind before he was shoved down onto the table, chest in his own cum. Vagabond pressed against him, the noise of a crinkling packet drowned out by the feeling of Vagabond pulling his cheeks open as Jeremy struggled to get onto his forearms.

Vagabond pressed against him, his cock cool and slick from what Jeremy assumed was actual lube, and shoved inside him.

Jeremy wanted to make a comment about the lube, but didn’t have enough air in his lungs. There was pain in his ass, a dull ache from the stretching of unprepared muscles, and his pain was becoming apparent all over his body. Sinking into his bones now that he was noticing it. He tried to right himself a little. His hand slipped on the table and he thudded back onto his stomach and hissed in annoyance and pain.

Vagabond wasted no time, fucking into his ass after pressing in deep and holding for barely a second, holding his hips steady with his vice-like grip. The man growled something above him that Jeremy didn’t quite catch.

Then there were gloves on the table next to his face and Jeremy blinked at them in surprise, the grip gone from one hip.

“Fuck!” Jeremy jumped, arcing his back in pain as nails bit into his skin, dragging down his back hard enough, surely, to leave blood behind them. It hurt like hell and Jeremy was left breathless, swearing with the pain, but he was glad it wasn’t a goddamn knife.

Shit.

He was hard again, almost painfully so, his dick hanging under him, bouncing with the rhythm of Vagabond fucking into him. Fucking _how._ Jeremy took a shaking breath, trying to lean up from the table, only to be shoved back down by Vagabonds hand, nails digging in harder this time, dragging down his back agonisingly slow.

The last time he’d gotten _this_ hard, _this_ soon after cumming once already was when he was a fucking teenager.

Vagabond rolled his hips a little with the next few thrusts and they went straight to his dick, Jeremy moaned out loud by accident, curling into the nails on his back and Vagabond paused. Silence for a moment while the man inside him caught his breath.

“Are you..?” He laughed, leaning down to grab Jeremy’s cock hanging underneath him, a whole other sensation without the gloves on, his body pulsing with the touch. “You _fucking are_!” He said, letting go and leaning into him even harder. “Way to represent your noble profession.” He sneered, rolling his hips into him again, fucking in hard but slow. “Way to honor all your bothers and sisters on the force I’ve raped and killed.” He punctured every few words with a thrust deep into his ass, and Jeremy felt ashamed on his most basic of levels. He really wanted to say it stopped the hard on. But it did not.

It made it worse.

“Often not in that order.” Vagabond added with a snarl. Jeremy shuddered with the thought, grinding his teeth and screwing his eyes shut to try and block out the world. “You being the exception, Dooley.” He went on, picking up his pace, leaning up to push his weight through his back. “You being the special case on account,” he grunted slightly, “of how much of a kinky fucking freak you are.” A moment of quiet while Vagabond fucked into him, gripping his hip and then down onto his injured shoulder. Pain stabbing through him as Jeremy jolted and snarled with the pain and surprise, jerking slightly as if to look for something to grind his leaking cock against.

“I can’t _buy_ that kind of bullshit.” Vagabond laughed, voice horse and rough with need. Jeremy tried to fight down the pressure behind his balls again. “I- fuck.” He breathed as Jeremy came, his muscles tensing around the cock in his ass as it buried inside him. “ _Christ_.” The man added, his own dick pulsing with heat, Vagabond spilling inside Jeremy, holding him down hard against the table.

Jeremy really wished he had a snappy rejoinder ready, and the energy to make one, but all he had was the distant taste of blood and bile in his mouth, pain starting to creep back into his mind and the kind of exhaustion that hollowed out his chest.

He felt more than heard the Vagabond laughing against him. Then felt him leaning over slightly, backing away a bit to reach out and tap the mouse on the computer. He sent it a few inches across the desk.

The screen woke as Jeremy looked at it, one program already running.

The webcam was open. The two of them pretty much center frame. Vagabond standing over him, Jeremy naked and bloody on the table, signs of welts and blood where the nails had gouged into his back. The program just high def enough in this light to catch the edge of Jeremy’s cock just beyond the edge of the table.

It was also recording.

It had been recording for a while.

“Shit.” Jeremy snarled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's already having a bad day. It gets worse. 
> 
> Ryan, though. Ryans having a great day.

Jeremy didn’t really have time to recover before Vagabond pulled away from him and hauled him backwards, shoving him back into the wall. He crashed into it, lost his balance and slipped onto his ass, feeling instantly filthy, pain jolting through him from the wound on his shoulder, the pain in his back.

Vagabond didn’t even look at him, moving forward, pants already back in place, to render the video file.

Jeremy took his opportunity. Pants first, pulled them on quickly before standing, leaning against the wall for the balance to do them up. He glanced around at the smear of blood he left there and hesitated over touching the shoulder.

He wasn’t going to bleed to death from this, it wasn’t bleeding that much. Most of the blood was starting to dry. His shirt was beyond vagabond, on the table, so that was a lost cause. Jeremy moved forward before he’d really thought this course of action through. Knowing full well a physical confrontation with Vagabond was always going to end poorly.

But Jeremy had always had a problem with bad odds.

So he moved forward, planning on grabbing the back of the jacket collar to pull him into a punch to his stupid mask, but Vagabond was prepared for him.

The man spun around, cross already moving toward his face, and Jeremy had to weave under it to avoid taking another one to the face. He reeled back a little to avoid the uppercut that followed and, in the space created by the strike, Jeremy fired in a quick hook to his floating ribs.

It landed, which was incredibly satisfying, as was the grunt that followed. Jeremy kept moving, angling off slightly as he reset, and forcing Vagabond to follow him. Jeremy moved forwards slightly with a jab, deflected by the bigger mans block, and then a cross, pressing his weight from his toes. Vagabond moved around it, coming towards him and Jeremy started, surprised, and went to duck as he moved back.

A touch slow, though, he caught the overhand to the side of the head, enough to knock his gaze but not enough to hurt his balance. The distraction was enough, though, as Vagabond dropped his weight and shot forward.

His shoulder landed in Jeremy’s lower abdomen, folding him at the middle, and then moved up as the man surged, spun, and drove him into the ground.

Jeremy made a pained grunt as the air was expelled from his lungs, his head hitting the ground and bouncing. Thank Christ it was carpet in here. He felt Vagabond moving, but couldn’t see or concentrate enough yet to stop him, didn’t know how to defend himself except trying to haul ass backwards on the floor.

A weight landed through his chest, pressing down just below his sternum, a hand grasping his neck and pulling upwards and Jeremy growled. He tried to blink his vision back on, tried to take a breath.

God his lungs hurt. Breathing hurt. He barely was able to get air in with the weight on him, and he was hindered even more by the pain.

He was gritting his teeth, breathing through them, with effort and pain and… He glared up at Vagabond, vision still blurred.

“Hey.” A voice said from beyond the table. Montague.

“Yeah?” Vagabond asked, not looking up.

“Phone call.” Montague explained, moving around the table and into Jeremy’s line of sight. He held up a phone. “They want proof of life.”

Vagabond nodded and stood, pushing his boot onto Jeremy’s chest to keep him flat on the ground. Montague was shorter than Vagabond, but only by a couple of inches. He was light and lean, had a runners body wrapped up in his tight black shirt and pants, belt carrying anything useful, and included a holster. He had dark hair, slightly toned skin as if he had _something_ in his background other than white. He also, unfortunately, had taken off the mask and had put just sunglasses on.

Not a _great_ sign.

Montague approached, looking at the blood on Jeremy’s naked torso and looking back at Vagabond as if trying to figure out what had happened in here. He held the phone back to his face.

“I’m putting you on speaker.” He said, pausing slightly. “Yeah, well, bad luck. Speaker.”

He glanced at the screen and tapped a button, assumedly turning on the speaker phone and mic.

“-him alone.” The voice on the other end of the line was saying. Jeremy almost closed his eyes. Geoff.

“Morning Detective Ramsey.” Vagabond said, loud enough for the phone to pick up as Montague moved to stand over Jeremy as well. There was a second of silence.

“You hired the-”

“Limited time and questions, Detective.” Montague warned harshly. “Say hi to your Officer.”

A sigh over the phone.

“Morning kid.” He replied with a tense tone. “You okay?”

Jeremy regarded the faces above him and tried to make his voice sound like something approaching normal.

“Morning Detective.” He said brightly. “Congrats on finishing that hostage negotiators course.”

“Goddamn it, Dooley.” Geoff muttered. “Are you injured?”

“A few bruises, nothing extreme.” Jeremy assured him. Montague glanced pointedly at his shoulder and then shrugged to himself. “They’re almost being gentlemen.” He added for good measure.

“For now.” Vagabond drawled. Once again Jeremy got the sense of a dangerous, manic smile from behind the mask.

“The other hostages?” Geoff pressed. Jeremy hesitated. He had no idea, Montague gave him a nod in the affirmative.

“I’ve been separated from them.” He replied quickly, instantly seeing the annoyance on Montague. Vagabond did not seem surprised at this turn of events.

“You have a pain in the ass officer here, Detective.” Montague warned dully.

“Tell me about it.” Geoff muttered.

“He’s trying real hard to get himself killed.” The man added, unclipping the pistol from his belt and crouching to put the gun against Jeremy’s forehead, ignoring his instinctive flinch. “Tell him what I’m holding, Officer Dooley.”

Jeremy hesitated slightly.

“A Glock 22.” Jeremy replied. “Looks like it needs a clean.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dooley.” Geoff growled, apparently not appreciating his humor at a time like this.

“Where is it aimed?” Montague pressed it harder against his forehead and Jeremy met his eyes calmly from under the barrel.

“My head.” He said, keeping his voice carefully steady. Jeremy heard Geoff’s intake of breath from the other end of the line. He felt Vagabond lean more weight into his chest, as if thinking he might try to make a grab for the gun.

He considered and dismissed it quickly. Vagabond would easily outdraw him.

“I have plenty of hostages, Detective.” Montague went on. “So I’m not going to kill your Officer here.” He paused. “Yet. But, if I need to get persuasive, I can always give him some more… extreme injuries.” Montague added, referencing Jeremy’s own words. “And I can send you the videos.”

“That is _not,_ ” Geoff started, Montague simply spoke over him.

“But don’t mistake me,” he said firmly, “if he pisses me off? I’m not really in the mood to stop Vagabond from doing whatever the hell it is _he_ looks so keen on doing.”

“Jesus-”

“You want to keep your Officer in one piece, Detective?” Montague went on. “Get me that fucking intel. Two hours.” He hung up the call before Geoff could say anything else.

Well.

Shit.

This wasn’t just a heist.

Jeremy really should have known that because Vagabond really didn’t get involved in something as simple as heists. Jeremy really wanted that nap now.

Montague was glaring at him from behind his sunglasses.

“You’re currently a requirement of this op.” He told him sternly. “So don’t make yourself more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Got a worth-trouble conversion chart I can check?” Jeremy asked, snapping the dry answer out before his brain even considered it.

Montague was _not_ amused, he withdrew his weapon and glanced up at Vagabond.

“We can always get some footage now, in case we need it later.” He said thoughtfully. Vagabond tilted his mask at him.

“What a great idea.” He commented brightly. Jeremy went to argue, but went ignored as they pulled him up to his feet. Vagabond hauled his hands behind him before Jeremy got his balance and Jeremy went to pull away, getting a fist in his solar plexus for his trouble. Montague looked as if punching him had really hit the spot.

Jeremy sucked air in through his teeth, feeling the cuffs go on behind his back, before being sat heavily into one of the chairs from under the table. Vagabond leaned a knee into his lap to keep him there. Montague, behind him, was fucking with his phone.

“You know, CGI has come a long way these days.” Jeremy muttered. Vagabond chuckled.

“How about we cut the tongue out.” Montague suggested dryly. Vagabond shook his head.

“To unpredictable.” He replied crisply. “Lotta bleeding, you’d kill him by accident.” He sounded like he was talking about upgrading a computer. “You have a preference?” He added, glancing at Montague, who shrugged.

“I’ve always been a fan of taking a finger or toe.”

“Over pretty quickly, if a show is what you’re after.” Vagabond told him. Montague sighed.

“This is your area of expertise.” He pointed out, aiming the phone at Jeremy. Filming vertically. Animal. “You do you, man.”

That was _not_ better. Jeremy glared at the camera as Vagabond turned to look down at him, almost assessing. A blade glinted slightly in the fluorescent light as it appeared in his hand.

“Any requests, Officer?”

“Go and fuck yourself?” He suggested darkly. Vagabond rested the knife against his ribs lightly as he chuckled.

“We’ve covered that.” Vagabond reminded him. “But we can do it again later if you’d like.”

“Ugh, get a room.” Montague laughed.

“Sorry.” Vagabond nodded. “Very unprofessional.”

Then, with a shove from Vagabond, pain seared through him from his side, burning into his lungs and up his ribs and under his arm. Jeremy tried to move away from it, a hand pressing his head back against the headrest of the chair to still him.

“Fuck.” He growled. “Argh…” He breathed in through his teeth harshly. Then he couldn’t breathe for a moment, stilled by pressure and the sharp stabbing pain in his side. He couldn’t locate it exactly, had no idea how deep it was.

“You stab him in the lung?” He heard Montague ask, sounding distant.

“Over the ribs.” Vagabond corrected. “Just slid it under the skin, and probably some muscle. See?”

The pain moved suddenly, agony rippling up through his skin and burning around his chest, making him growl.

“Gross, don’t twist it.” Montague chuckled. Jeremy realised he’d shut his eyes at some point. Realised he was still holding his breath. He sucked in air for a few quick breaths and held it again.

“Chest wall is good.” Vagabond noted. “Hard to fuck it up if you stay above the ribs, and they feel it every time they breathe.”

“Dude.” Montague replied, maybe in awe, maybe in disgust. Jeremy didn’t care.

“That’d be why you’re holding your breath, Dooley.” Vagabond added, directed at him. At the reminder Jeremy took a few short breaths and was almost annoyed by the pain that jolted through his chest as he did so. The pain bloomed again, growing as it felt like the Vagabond moved. Jeremy let out a breath of _Jesus fucking Christ_ ’s, trying to stay still and quiet.

“C’mon, pig.” Vagabond encouraged quietly. “Squeal for me.”

“ _Fucking shit_.” Jeremy could only respond in a whisper, in breathed out cuss words as the pain coiled around him, heat like he was on fire against his side. He flexed, trying to twist away, trying to get out from under the Vagabonds weight.

There was a short, sharp movement and he grunted, initially stopping himself from making sound, and then couldn’t because he had no air. The heat moved up his chest for a burst, bubbling under his skin as the knife tore through skin and muscle. He felt stuck, like he was frozen, unable to breathe or speak or move. He opened his mouth, couldn’t make any sound so ground his teeth as he tried to pull his head free of the hand holding it still.

“Come on, little pig.” Vagabond said again, closer this time. “ _Fucking squeal_.”

The heat moved around his chest slightly as Vagabond changed position and Jeremy sucked in air, quickly and quietly trying to breathe. Short and shallow gasps not a replacement for respiration, but it was all he could manage in his panicked state.

Vagabond moved again, a sharp motion, the pain centering for a split second just beneath his pectoral and he yelled involuntarily, a sharp, high, growl of pain before his lungs seized again.

“Good boy.” Vagabond growled, feeling just above him. The heat dulled, retracted, sparks of ice replacing it as the pain changed as the intrusion was removed. He felt it wiped against his jeans, first one side and then the other.

“That should do it.” Montague said.

Vagabond released his head and Jeremy spent a full minute trying to figure out how to open his eyes. His vision was blurred, eyes watering from pain, tears sliding down his face as he blinked it away. He tried to take a proper breath, but had to wince to a stop from the pain as his chest tried to expand. He blew a lungful of air passed pursed lips, trying to control the pain, trying to rectify his mind with it.

He felt a tap on his shoulder as the weight lifted off him and Montague put the phone in front of his face.

“Want to see my favourite bit?” He asked. Jeremy looked at him, not having quite enough energy to manage a glare. He hit play.

Jeremy didn’t listen to the sound, the volume was way down, but did watch Vagabond moving sideways slightly in the video to indicate the knife stabbed vertically under his skin. The knife twisted, distorting his skin upward like something as trying to get out.

Jeremy felt the bile in his throat before he felt the nausea, his side flaring in pain as his brain reminded him the injury was still there, but swallowed it down. He did not close his eyes, instead aiming them over the phone at Montague, fighting through his apathy to manage a heated look.

Montague laughed.

“Listen, _Officer_.” He said, moving the phone out of the way. “You’re with us here for the long haul, so you’re going to behave. If you say, do or _think_ something that I don’t like?” He nodded towards the front of the bank, where the hostages were. “I’m going to drag a hostage in here and shoot them in the head. I’ll start with the pretty young women-”

“He likes men.” Vagabond pointed out. Jeremy really didn’t feel this was the time to correct him that he was bi. It didn’t make a difference.

“Right then, the cute young boys.” Montague corrected without missing a beat. “And I’ll move through them in whatever way seems most distressing to you. So, you’re going to sit here, do whatever we tell you, and keep your pretty little mouth _shut_. Got it?”

Jeremy really didn’t want to agree, but knew he didn’t really have much of a choice. He was trying to breathe in a way that didn’t hurt, but there didn’t appear to be one, as he leveled his gaze at the guy.

“He’s not going to ask again.” Vagabond warned quietly.

“I got it.” Jeremy bit out quickly in reply, agreeing hurting almost as much as the knife.

“Good man.” Montague nodded, tapping him in the chest in a way that, in any other situation, would seem friendly. But it landed on his new knife wound and sent a static shock of pain through him, making Jeremy curl and snarl at him. He laughed as he stood. He glanced at Vagabond and tilted his head slightly. Asking for a word.

“Stay.” Vagabond warned and turned to follow the guy out the door to have a conversation in the hall.

Jeremy twisted in the seat a little trying to check the cuffs, see how tight they were against his wrists. They were firm, no room to wiggle out without dislocating his thumb. And even then, he doubted he’d get free.

Then, taking a small breath, he glanced down at his side. He looked immediately back at the wall with a grimace.

The wound started under his arm, along his lower ribs, and ran in a line around toward his front an inch or so. The skin hung a little, as if loose, and Jeremy tried really hard not to think about the fact the knife had essentially cut it loose from his-

He swallowed, hard, trying to lessen the taste of bile in his throat. He glanced up at the door and couldn’t help the feeling of relief as one of the other robbers walked in, Vagabond and Montague heading deeper into the bank.

New guy was younger looking, his mask still in place, dressed in similar black clothing and he rounded the table and paused on seeing him.

“Christ, dude, what happened to you?”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” He asked in reply. The dude laughed and moved forward to sit on the table, shoving a few chairs out of his way as he did so.

“Think you pissed of Vagabond.” He said. Jeremy sighed.

“I’m a cop, I didn’t have to piss him off.”

The guy pulled out his phone.

“Right, well do me a favour and sit there nice and quiet like.” He said. “I’m not in the mood to go-a-stabbing today.”

“How do you fit in?” Jeremy responded dryly, leaning back in the chair again. The guy shrugged and chuckled slightly, immediately absorbed into whatever social media site he was scrolling through.

 

It was an hour and a half later when Montague returned, sans Vagabond.

“Oh good, you’re still alive.” The man said as he moved into the room, setting a small black box on the table. He didn’t sound incredibly happy about it.

Jeremy replied with a glare, having to open his eyes from trying to rest. The pains had sort of combined to a generalised ache, worsening every time he moved. Or thought about moving. Or took a breath that was slightly too deep.

“Hasn’t moved.” The guy guarding him assured Montague. “You guys wore him out.”

“Think Vagabond did most of the wearing.” Montague muttered, turning around to plug the box he’d brought into the desktop.

“Remind why he’s here again?” Guard asked.

“Red…” Montague sighed.

“Because no-one in your crew has the skills to do the job.” Vagabond supplied, walking in with an armful of computer parts.

The guard, Red apparently, hesitated like he’d _really_ not meant to say that in front of the man. Jeremy instantly wondered what skills he was referring to, but refrained from asking, hoping to go unnoticed for as long as possible.

“Think this’ll be enough?” Montague asked pointedly as Vagabond dumped things onto the table and started sorting through them.

“Should be.” He nodded. “Give me an hour to tell.”

Montague sighed and glanced at his watch.

“Intel should be coming through soon enough.” He said. “Might be time to call them again.”

“Might need a reminder.” Red agreed. Vagabond got to work, moving the screen out of the way and flipping the desktop over to start taking it apart.

“Maybe.” Montague nodded. “Take Officer Dooley here out the front again. We-”

“He can stay.” Vagabond said distractedly. Montague glanced at the back of the mask.

“He’d rather be outside.” Jeremy pointed out quietly.

“Yes, well no-one asked you.” Montague rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“This isn’t a very democratic process.” Jeremy grumbled, knowing he really need to cool it on the smart-assedry

“Lucky for you, because I feel like you’d be outvoted.” Red pointed out.

“Just take Officer Smartass outside.” Montague pressed.

“Why?” Red huffed, nodding sideways at Vagabond without looking up from his phone. “Your rabid dog wants his toy.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Vagabond, in three fluid movements, straightened, drew his pistol and turned. The room jerked, Montague halfway through roaring “no!” as the weapon fired into Reds temple.

Jeremy closed his eyes, instinct, against the blood spatter that hit him, spreading across the table next to him, and then ignored the sound of the body slumping.

“Jesus _fucking Christ,_ Vagabond!” Montague snarled, hand over his mouth. “Fuck!”

Vagabond holstered his weapon calmly, Jeremy glanced up at him and then around at Red.

He had slumped diagonally onto the table, his brain matter now covering the table, the wall, the window and, to Jeremys horror, his face and shoulder. The pool of blood now leaking from the wound in his head slowly growing onto the wood. Red’s eyes, behind the mask, were open.

Jeremy realised he was breathing deeply, chest hurting with the movement, startled and shocked into silence.

“Out.” Vagabond said evenly. Montague took a step back, threw his hands in the air slightly.

“You said you’d control yourself.” Montague growled.

“I was very in control.” Vagabond assured him. “He needed to shut up.”

Montague breathed like he wanted to say something else, but shook his head again, and then marched out of the room. He pulled the door shut behind him and moved up the corridor, visibly shaking.

Vagabond moved forward, startling Jeremy out of his staring match with the dead body, and grabbed him by the neck and pulled him forwards. Jeremy practically fell out of the chair and down onto his knees, unable to get his feet under him quickly enough in his shock.

There was no banter, no teasing, and no build up. Vagabond tore open his jeans, pulled his hard cock free, and pressed forward as if he expected Jeremy to accommodate him.

Jeremy hesitated for all of half a second, but thought better of his timing, and opened his mouth.

He didn’t have the luxury of his hands this time, no way to try and control his position. He tried to square his knees, get a good base, trying not to flinch backwards as Vagabond pressed his cock over his tongue and toward the back of his throat.

His body naturally tried to pull back when Vagabond didn’t stop pressing forwards, unable to go far as the man grabbed his head to hold him still. Jeremy swallowed, tried to allow him in, but then felt his gag reflex go, squeezing around the intrusion and trying to remove it.

Vagabond paused and stayed still for a moment, Jeremy on the verge of choking, wanting to pull away if just to breathe properly.

Then Vagabond started moving again, fucking into his face with a slowly gathering pace. Each time advancing to the edge of Jeremy’s ability to take him, trying to push a little further. His throat felt dry and aching quickly, his jaw pounding with the effort of staying open and loose.

The remnants of lube and Vagabonds seed filled his mouth, the stink of sweat and leather, and the feel of the man was suddenly everywhere. Became quickly Jeremy’s entire world, the pressure on his head, the discomfort in his throat. The feel of the cock in his mouth.

He groaned when he realised he was getting hard, slowly but surely, the Vagabonds _everything_ hitting all the right notes to get his dick interested again. He tried to send it back in the other direction, but most of his concentration was focused on trying to keep his mouth wet, trying not to choke on the dick Vagabond seemed really keen to get him to choke on. Trying to provide enough suction and movement with his tongue to ensure that this didn’t last as long as it would otherwise.

The fact that it was silent, apart from the sound of the dick sliding in and out of his mouth, the sound of his own and Vagabonds breathing, was genuinely concerning him.

It felt like an age, but probably didn’t take all that long, before Vagabond really started going for it. Jeremy barely able to keep up, trying not to gag and choke around the tip as it pressed just beyond his comfort zone.

Vagabond of course seemed to relish the sounds he was making, the feel of the constriction around him.

Vagabond made a sound above him, Jeremy wasn’t sure if he’d actually managed to get words out, before he pressed deep into his mouth and came. The taste was bitter and salty and Jeremy, unable to expel it, instantly tried to swallow it out of his mouth and throat. It was only marginally successful as Vagabond stayed still for a long few minutes. Kept his softening cock in his mouth while the man breathed above him.

Jeremy tried to swallow again, shaking Vagabond out of his daze, and the man pulled away and let him go.

Jeremy lost balance backwards, half falling onto his ass, barely stopping himself with the hands locked behind him. His mouth was instantly dry, his throat throbbing with his heart beat, the taste still in his mouth. He coughed involuntarily, pain rippling through his chest and he tried to stop it, made it worse and swore at the carpet.

By the time he’d figured out breathing again, looking up at Vagabond standing over him, the man was completely back to normal.

Prick.

“Great.” Jeremy snarled dryly, voice hoarse. “Confirmation you get off on blowing peoples brains out.”

Vagabond angled his head down at him. Jeremy instantly regretted his comment.

“I’m not the only one.” He said, moving to reach down.

“Nope.” Jeremy hissed, moving back, rolling slightly to try to get to his feet.

Vagabond got his arm, not letting him get far as he struggled to stand, hauling him in close to him, the grip moving to the cuff chain, yanking down on them to bend Jeremy into him. He twisted them, facing the table, and moved forwards.

Jeremy pressed a foot quickly up and into the edge of the table, pushing back and up, trying to roll free of the grip.

A sharp jab with a fist to his side made his knee buckle, shoving Jeremy forward and one knee onto the table, the edge of the pool of blood touching his jeans. Vagabond leaned into him, reaching around to undo his pants.

“Fuck!” Jeremy twisting his other knee up and onto the table, trying to push the hand away with his hip. More weight though the cuffs hauled him backwards, Vagabond leaning into his shoulders, keeping him bent under him, allowing the man to pull open his jeans and grasp his cock.

“I hate you so much.” Jeremy breathed, stilling as the leather glove rubbed against him for a moment, trying to breathe, trying very hard not to look up. Blood he could handle. The body…

“Good.” Vagabond replied.

The hand vanished, moved up beside his head, and Vagabond tugged the glove off with his teeth. Jeremy didn’t know where it went. Then hand, though, reached over his leg and pressed flat into the pool of blood.

“No.” Jeremy managed, trying to control his breathing as it picked up. Trying desperately to make the hard on go away, but it was throbbing between his legs. Vagabonds hand, now dripping with red, moved back to grip him.

“Fuck, don’t!” Jeremy tried to push him off again, tried to twist away and froze at the firm grip at the base of his cock. He growled under his breath. Vagabond laughed against his back, started moving his hand, smoothed by the warm-

_Don’t think about it_. Jeremy told himself. He needed to stop this. He _needed_ him to stop. He couldn’t… Fuck he wanted to cum. Wanted this to be over.

He let out a hard breath, a noise of surprised pleasure as his body moved with need. Jeremy blinked away tears in his eyes, shaking his head as he tried, again, to twist his body free.

“S-stop.” He said, choking it out with a barely disguised sob. He tried to move his leg, tried to hook his toe onto the edge of the table. Not sure what he wanted to accomplish.

A pulse went through him, pulling a groan out of his throat, adding heavily to the pressure in his head, to his groin. Christ he was hot, starting to sweat in the room, where Vagabond was against him.

Jeremy felt himself shudder, knew it was coming, tried to stop it – really didn’t – and growled expletives as he came. Pleasure pulsed through him, crashing into him and then pulling away. He felt himself breathing, almost hanging limp in Vagabonds grip, head resting back against his shoulder.

“You gotta stop making this so fun for me, Dooley.” Vagabond said into his ear. “Or I’m never gonna kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. (I'm not). And I'm reevaluating my personal preferences and stuff. (lol, no I'm not.) And I promise no more harm will come to Jeremy. (Ha!) 
> 
> Adorable.

**Author's Note:**

> OMG so this came together over a few hours yesterday, because I read [Wrespawns Brass Balls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498330) and I got an idea that wouldn't stop. 
> 
> Yes, I'm a horrible, kinky, weird human being and I love it.


End file.
